


When I Was A Child

by Coffin Liqueur (HP_Lovecats)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HP_Lovecats/pseuds/Coffin%20Liqueur
Summary: They've made each others' dreams come true - two resolute romantics, side by side.
Relationships: Josephine Montilyet/Cassandra Pentaghast
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	When I Was A Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inquisitor_tohru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/gifts).



> ["Come, my love, I'll tell you a tale](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AN1Ztpmzjs4)   
>  [Of a ~~boy~~ girl and girl, and their love story~"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AN1Ztpmzjs4)

After hours too late in Skyhold for any but them to be present - so late that they feel apart from time and space; so late that they know quite well even after their previous suspicions that he would have been an unsleeping scholar that Solas considers himself a scholar of dreams; so late that there were no more flickers of shadows in the corners of their eyes that gave them vague senses of _deja vu_ , as they said in Orlais, that came with thoughts of young men's soft voices and advice that they could not quite remember but felt as if they should enough to break the dream; so late that even the sleepless Inquisitor and Cullen would not be about pacing; indeed, so late that it seemed that the time was truly all theirs, so still, so bright among candles, and so suspended in another world such as to be magical --

...They would dance.

Not to any music, for that was not necessary.

There was no need for show of sentimentality, let alone enhancement of it, for it was simply natural. Dreamlike, and not.

They knew when was the right time to descend.

Even before then, as discussion of strategies and allegiances and stakes began to settle - cool and turn soft-warm colors evoking the dark under a blanket - into the night, and the Inquisitor and Cullen and other men and women gathered under the four began to file out, and leave things be, the two of them would almost always smile at each other.

Give each other looks that were soft, quite always.

Once which offered sympathy, whenever necessary.

Ones which were knowing, also always.

Josephine and Cassandra were dutiful. These rendezvous of theirs were not escapes from these duties of theirs, which they were as proud of for their own sakes as for their purposes'. Josephine knew that she was a woman of charm, and privilege, and status, and that she took great pride in being able to use these for good. Cassandra knew she had strength, and skill, and she was thankful every day that she had sufficient a bond with the Maker to trust Him, and that that trust and resonance with Him meant that she was truly on the right path to serve Him.

They understood each others' senses of duty. Each others' senses of pride.

They admired each, and as they turned together in that great broad hall, in the shifting warm-bruise-purple and cool-starry-blue-and-star-dotted and warm-torch-glow-framed hall, with its broadness windows and columns, with hands laced in hands and rested on hips or waists, humming laughs in warm-throated tones to each other and casting likewise-warm looks to each other, held even-for-even under two sets of long dark eyelashes, they admired each other, too - understanding each others' personal sense of pride and duty as, in turn, giving each of them what she wanted, with no desire for anything in return.

How Cassandra had dreamed for something pure and from-the-heart - that starry-eyed-ness and unity like what she felt burning in her chest when she remembered how she'd become a Seeker, but more earthly, from someone she could speak to, but still knew nothing better than to stand tall while also giving and shining.

Josephine in turn had so long dreamed of a warrior in shining armor. Cassandra needn't fight for her hand; nothing needed be bought between the two of them at all, the two of them already comrades. _Friends_ \- the chevaliers who rode on white horses to the gates of your family's estate swearing they would fight for your hand were a pretty idea for a maiden until she quickly realized that strangers' admiration had nothing at all to do, truly, with even rumors of how wonderful she was, how beautiful, how worthy it _blazed the heart and prickled the eyes_ to feel that she was.

It took a friend, or sister-in-arms, or whatever Cassandra was, or had ever been, or still was and more, to truly provide that.

They truly danced together as within a dream come true.

The way a dream _was_ \- utterly natural at the time when one is in the midst of it.

And they didn't even need to be in the realm of dreams for this - immersion in concept _as_ concept.

None of the bitterness that came with this. None of the _unreal_ worship that Cassandra sometimes suspected those who lost faith felt. None of it was threatening. None of it felt lost, once it ended. There was no doubt that it would go away, or that either of them could not return to it once they were no longer alone together, and Cassandra trained or gave her mind and focus back to the Maker in a session of prayer again, or Josephine sharpened hers again on documents and counts of coin and word after word after word to pass to assistant such that it wouldn't be lost in translation, or to nobleman or noblewoman such that they would think of nothing but what _her_ and _them_ and what _they_ , strategically, could do for each other.

It was unlikely that either of them would ever use the words _"true love"_ , such as _not_ to _ascribe_ that sort of childish dreaminess to it. _Turn_ it into a simple concept that could be stolen away by the Fade - perhaps superstitiously.

But how it burned and glowed like candlelight, in both their chests - the way did the thought of a tale that comforted a youth as they went to bed for the night; one that gave them dreams that filled their head with a million stars, and made them want to dance, and sigh, and think of the sensation of soft-glowing waves off fire against their skin --

And it did all that, at the same time, outside of the Fade.

So pure...!


End file.
